


learning to live in the present (and other acquired habits)

by WannabeMarySue



Category: Red vs. Blue, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Depression, M/M, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-graphic death, Self-Harm, Space AU, comfort dom/sub undertones, featuring one very lovable android, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WannabeMarySue/pseuds/WannabeMarySue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dan could see him now, he'd probably tell Gavin to bloody get on with it already, but that was the problem, wasn't it? Dan wasn't here. Or the one in which Gavin has a sentient voice in his head, the Freelancers aren't the bad guys, and nobody actually knows what is going on, they just like to pretend they do.</p>
<p>(Now with sequel posted)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "underneath it all, we're all just savages"

**Author's Note:**

> Not at all canon-compliant RvB inspired space trash. How many space AUs have I written now? Not enough, that's how many. I would like to dedicate this story to Childish Gambino and Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos.  
> Warnings for space induced dysphoria (not a thing you hear often), run on sentences because commas are my favorite form of punctuation, and everything else that is in the tags.

_It is highly suggested that you listen to **[this](http://8tracks.com/capmack/heart-so-dark-make-dirt-look-clean)** while reading, (also check out my **[tumblr](http://lieutenantsmithandcaboose.tumblr.com/)** for extras) and I hope you enjoy!_

 

_“ 'cause you're just damage control for a walking corpse like me”_

   

Gavin was bloody fucking cold. And wet? Why the hell was he wet? He wanted to open his eyes, blow them wide and drink in his surroundings, but they were crusted shut with what felt like years worth of rheum. Shifting to the side, he felt a sharp pull in the crook of his elbow, nothing more than a pinprick, but irksome nonetheless. He reached up slowly to rub at his unblinking eyes to clear away the crust, but he hit an unforgiving wall that blocked his movements.

    A strange whirring surrounded him, reverberating in the back of his skull, calming him. Cold air blasted over him, raising goose bumps up and down his exposed, naked body. A warm, wet cloth was pressed to his eyes, slowly loosening the grime gluing his eyes shut. When the cloth was removed, he blinked several times, slowly letting his underused eyes refocus.

    Leaning over him with a look of mild concern weirdly etched onto it’s metallic face was an android reminiscent of the classic sci-fi movies he grew up watching as a kid. If he wasn’t so bloody goddamn cold he would have squawked in surprise...or fear, he hadn’t quite made up his mind on how he felt about this development yet. The android cocked it’s head at him, and for the first time Gavin was suddenly hyper aware of his goose pimpled, naked body.

    As if it sensed his unease, the android held up a large, white blanket in front of Gavin. With the incentive of warmth and modesty, Gavin haltingly sat up, his joints creaking loudly in protest. The android reached forward with the blanket, as if to tuck it around his shivering body, but Gavin quickly snatched it away, wrapping it around his body himself.

    With what Gavin imagined to be as close to an offended sniff as an android could muster, the robot turned and tottered away from Gavin, fussing with something he couldn’t see. With his strange companion no longer holding his attention, Gavin chose instead to study the strange glass and metal tube he had been sleeping in. Cold beads of water were condensed on the metal sides and the glass lid that hung on it’s hinges to the side of him. Clear tubes filled with strange liquids spilled out of the side of the coffin-like chamber. One was still connected to his arm like an IV. Carefully, because needles and blood and just about everything medical made his stomach crawl up the back of his throat and his eyes go fuzzy, he removed it from his arm and drapped it next to its brethren.

    The android reminded Gavin of the stuffy old butlers that were almost always inevitably cast in any vaguely British movie, therefore he decided to name him Butler. Butler made its way back over to Gavin with a small white tray of white mush. The food, the tray, the blanket, it was all white, blending in with the white walls and the white floor of the small room they were in. In fact, the only color in the entire room was himself and Butler.

    Butler held the tray towards Gavin, looking at him expectantly--don’t ask him how an android could look expectant, Butler was just a very talented android.

    “You--” Gavin’s voice squeaked out of his throat, rasping painfully against his unused vocal cords. Clearing his throat and drinking some of the water Butler handed to him in what was unsurprisingly a white cup, Gavin tried again.

    “You don’t actually expect me to eat that, do you?” Butler looked up at him in surprise and then inspected the food, trying to find something unsatisfactory about it. Apparently finding nothing wrong with it, Butler again pushed it towards Gavin with a small, insistent whirring.

    Crossing his arms, Gavin shook his head, content to be stubborn and annoying, because right now, a small part of his brain was telling him that something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong. Where was he? Why had he been in that strange tube? Why the bloody fuck was there an overly maternal android trying to feed him mush? That small part of his brain wanted him to panic, to shut down and let the problems resolve themselves in due time. But the larger and infinitely stupider part of his brain was determined to keep him moving forward in blissful ignorance. So, it forced him to do the one thing that kept him sane and happy in even the most tumultuous, what-the-everliving-fuck situations; Gavin’s stupid as shit fight-or-flight instincts, which controlled him 90% of the time, forced him to be annoying, which to be honest, didn’t require that much force.

    So he sat there, arms crossed and lip stuck out petulantly, denying the mush over and over again, watching with a sick sort of glee as Butler became increasingly more frustrated, his beeps and whirs growing louder and more insistent every minute.

    Eventually Gavin acknowledged the gnawing hole in his stomach and with an immature tongue waggle, he took the mush from Butler and choked it down. For the most part, it was flavorless, but it’s thick, wet, chalky texture made him gag almost everytime he swallowed it. Once he finished, Butler took the tray away from him and motioned for Gavin to lay back in his tube.

    He would have questioned why he was doing what the android said (or rather mimed), but he was suddenly so very, very tired. His eyelids drooped down against his will, and his traitorous mouth yawned, wide and jaw-popping. Pulling the blanket tighter around his thin body, he lay back, watching out of half-lidded eyes as Butler turned the lights off and left the room through a small, sliding door that was (surprise, surprise) just as white as the rest of the room.

    Gavin dreamt of Dan. Of their last night together, just days before. Gavin had surprised him with a midnight picnic beneath the stars. And by picnic, Gavin meant bevs and old barbeque with cheesy indie music and a blanket that was more threadbare patches than actual cloth. It had been amazing. There had been drunk, sloppy, magical kisses, and giggled “I love you’s” pressed deep into his neck, and the stars had burned brightly above them, millions of reminders of their night together.

    Gavin watched as the happy memory unravelled before him, as he cuddled close into Dan’s arms, singing wonderfully off-key to the music pouring from Dan’s car. The music began to fade, becoming tinny and distant. His own voice, drunk and lilting before, began to warp and lengthen, the words no longer discernible. The stars, their fire heating the earth beneath him white-hot, rushed towards their happy little picnic. The ground around them melted away, and the car burned into nothingness, Gavin watched as he was ripped away from Dan by the stars. Dan caught fire, slowly burning into nothingness as Gavin was dragged screaming off into space by the traitorous, laughing stars.

    Gavin was shaken awake by a frantically whirring Butler. The android’s metallic face looked worried, scared even. Gavin was confused, but then a thin stream of blood dripped slowly of his nose, the vermillion drop marring his blanket’s achingly white surface. Slowly, Gavin turned to look in the reflective lid of his tube. Deep scratches ran down his face, ripping their way from the middle of his forehead across his right eye. Looking down at his hands, he saw dried blood and strings of his own skin embedded underneath his fingernails.

    “Just a bad dream,” He  murmured in a poor attempt at placating the stricken android.

    Gavin’s statement jolted Butler into action. A small compartment opened in its chest, revealing an array of useful human items. Selecting some antiseptic and band-aids, Butler moved closer to Gavin, silently asking permission to patch him up.

    “Go ahead,” He said, waving his hand in acquiescence.

    Butler got to work quickly, dabbing at each scratch with the an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball to clean them; the android then carefully covered them each with a band-aid.

    “Thanks.”

    Butler beeped embarrassedly before rushing out of the room as if it suddenly had somewhere very important to be. Gavin watched it leave through the sliding door. Abruptly disenchanted with the stark, white room, Gavin crawled out of his tube and almost immediately collapsed to the ground, his legs shaking beneath him like a newborn calf. Holding onto the side of his tube to steady himself with one hand, he clutched his blanket tightly around him with the other.

    Once his legs felt stronger than two uncooked pieces of spaghetti beneath him, he haltingly tripped his way to the door and out into the space beyond.

    He stepped into a larger room, which if he had had the time to properly examine it, he would have noticed that it was just as white and bland as the previous one, but the huge window displaying a panoramic view of the expansive black nothingness that spread out before him with nothing but a blue swirling planet to mar it distracted him from the irksome lack of colorful decor within the room.

    Gavin fell to his knees, no longer able to focus on keeping his legs working properly. A choked sob ripped its way out of his throat.

    Butler, startled by the heavy thud, appeared at Gavin’s side, quiet, only worried whirring announcing its presence. Gavin ignored the android and continued to stare with disbelieving eyes at what lay before him. Everything that the small voice in the back of his head had been screaming since he had first awoken began to fall into place. The tube, the needles, the android. Everything.

    He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. None of this was possible. Just another bad dream. He had just fallen asleep in the back of Dan’s car on the way back from their picnic, and the alcohol was just messing with his dreams. None of this was possible.

    Almost of their own accord, his hands reached up towards his face, slowly, agonizingly dragging his fingernails through his flesh, tearing long strips out of his skin, over and over again.

    With a loud beep, Butler lunged towards him, grabbing Gavin’s hands with its own robotic ones, pulling them away from his scratched up face. Butler reached into its chest compartment and clutched at a small syringe. Jabbing it into Gavin’s arm, the android carefully held Gavin’s now unconscious body close to its own metal one. He carried Gavin back to his tube, tucking him back into the chamber.

    This time when Gavin dreamt of Dan, Gavin burned too.

 

* * *

 

    Gavin supposed he could have found a way to keep track of time on the strange, empty space station, but when you’re floating purposelessly through space in a hunk of metal with nothing but an overly maternal android as company, time tends to become meaningless.

    A lot of things tend to become  meaningless.

    Gavin often found himself falling asleep on the ground by the window. Most nights Butler would appear and beep insistently at his side, disturbing his silent vigil by the window displaying the endless void between him and earth. Butler would nudge at Gavin's side, urging him to go sleep, to recharge. Butler did the same routine during meal times and whenever the android decided that Gavin probably really needed to take a shower.

    If Gavin hadn’t been so apathetic, so empty and uncaring, he might have taken note of how strange it was that there was always enough of the mush to keep him fed, always warm water for his showers and clean clothes for him to wear. It was almost as if everything in the space station, all the way down to Butler itself, was designed to keep Gavin alive.

    Maybe someday in the distant future, if Gavin even survived whatever the hell his life had turned into, he would appreciate the complete and utter care with which Butler did everything for Gavin. The calm whirring noises it would emit whenever Gavin started to have a panic attack, his hands itching to claw at his skin and rip it off his bones. Butler was never far away, always prepared to hold Gavin close and calm him down and keep him centered and alive.

    Gavin supposed he really should have kept track of the time somehow, because then he might have known how many days it had been since he had woken up in the strange space station. But he hadn’t. Instead he had spent endless, uncounted hours in front of the unobstructed view of space and the faraway planet that had been his home. Routinely, Butler would bring him food or urge him to the showers or to his tube for some rest, but he always found himself drifting back towards that gorgeous, traitorous, undisputable view.

    It was only due to this obsessive need to stare unendingly at what he could no longer obtain that he saw the strange, small ship come hurtling towards the space station. For several moments he couldn’t even comprehend what he was seeing; it wasn’t until a disembodied voice echoed throughout the space station, announcing an unauthorized ship docking that he was startled into action. Butler came charging out of the other room, anxiously beeping. Gavin stumbled to his feet, hiking up the too loose cotton pants that hung limply around his thin hips.

    He could hear heavy, thudding footsteps and low voices coming from the docking bay. Beside him, Butler began to panic, the android's beeping and whirring becoming more and more frantic. The footsteps and voices grew louder and louder; when they stopped right outside the observation deck door Butler stepped in front of Gavin, shielding his thin body with its own metal one.

    “Butler,” Gavin murmured, unable to articulate the sudden surge of affection he had for the android. Butler whirred back in a reassuring way as it procured from within its chest compartment a small, futuristic looking gun.

    The door slid open, revealing a small crowd of people clad in strange armor and helmets, each holding a gun much larger than Butler’s.

    With a nervous whir, Butler levelled the gun at the group of people; the android mustered forth its most threatening beep and waved the weapon slightly, as if to shoo them away.

    “Whoa there little buddy,” The person in front said, his voice crackling through his helmet’s comm unit, “We don’t mean any harm.”

    Butler brandished the gun again, but this time less certain.

    “Watch where you’re waving that thing,” A man dressed in dark purple armor warned, flinching away from the gun.

    “It’s okay,” Gavin assured Butler, reaching out a hand to calm the overprotective android.

    Butler beeped uncertainly, but Gavin stepped around it to get a better look at the men. There were five of them altogether, each dressed in a different variation of what appeared to be some strange type of space armor.

    Staring at their armor, something finally occured to Gavin after God know’s how long he'd been stuck in the space station.

    “What year is it?”

    “What?” The first guy asked, his voice squeaking on the single word.

    “The year. What’s the year?” Gavin asked, frantic now. He walked closer to the group of people, almost afraid of what the answer would be.

    “It’s 2552...why?” The guy answered, sounding confused and mildly worried.

    Gavin froze, doing some quick math in his head.

    “538. It’s been 538 years,” Gavin muttered to himself, his hands twitching at his sides, “Over half a millenium…”

    “What’re you talking about?” A guy in gray and orange armor asked, moving towards Gavin.

    Gavin ignored him and turned towards Butler. He walked slowly towards the robot, muttering 538 over and over again. Stopping in front of the android, he stared at it, unseeing, as Dan’s face flashed in his head. Dan was dead. 538 years. Dan was dead. His family was dead. Everyone he loved, dead. 538 years. All of his waiting, pointless. 538 years. Dead. Dan was dead. 538 years.

    He reached towards Butler, who whirred in concern but didn’t move. Gavin grabbed the gun away from the android, moving faster than he had in a long time. He held the gun to his temple, salty tears running down his face and over his lips.

    “538 years,” He whispered and pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

    Gavin woke up to a bone deep ache slowly eating a hole in his chest and the taste of day old rust thick in his mouth. He wasn’t even remotely aware enough yet to discern his surroundings, but he could tell that he was definitely not tucked safely into his tube like usual. There was a gentle murmuring above him, faint words broke through the crushing emptiness that filled him up.

    “Dunno what’s wrong with him, but that android seems to have it under control…”

    So Butler had managed to save him again after all; if Gavin had had the energy to sigh in exasperation he would have. The voices faded and Gavin, too apathetic to care about where he was at this point, eventually drifted back to sleep.

    _“538 years,” the words barely rasped out of his throat, physically causing him pain. The only escape he saw was pulling the trigger. And he tried to, he really did, but the world around him suddenly exploded into motion, the gun ripped away from him, and strong, steady arms supporting him as Butler sedated him with one of the many syringes the android kept in its chest compartment._

_538 years. He had tried._

_It hadn’t been enough. Dan was dead._

_538 years._

_Fuck._

 

* * *

    “You can’t lay in bed forever, you know.”

    Gavin had learned from days of listening to whispered conversations while he pretended to sleep that the man talking was Geoff, the guy in charge of the armored group.

    “Ignore me all you want. It’s not gonna change anything,” Geoff continued. He sighed deeply and metal scraped against the floor of the ship as he sat down.

    “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, and your android friend isn’t exactly talkative, but I want to help however I can...if you’ll let me.”

    When Gavin didn’t say anything, Geoff sighed again quietly, but didn’t move. Instead he reclined back in his seat and closed his eyes.

    Gavin didn’t know how long the two of them stayed like that, the quiet hanging in the air like an unfinished promise, brittle and cracked.

    “Butler,” Gavin said quietly, not moving from where he was curled in a fetal position on the cot.

    “Hmm?” Geoff hummed, cracking an eye open to look at Gavin’s prone form.

    “The android. Name’s Butler.” Gavin opened his eyes and stared blankly at the wall opposite him. Geoff didn’t say anything else, his silence giving Gavin the choice to keep talking or fall back into stubborn, melancholic silence once again.

    “Who’re you guys?” Gavin asked, still staring resolutely at the wall, “Why’d you come to that space station.”

    “Gotta tip off from my boss, dunno where he got it from. Just said something of interest might be in an abandon looking space station in this empty little corner of space. Didn’t realize that “something of interest” meant a malnourished, suicidal British guy.”

    Gavin huffed out a dry, humourless laugh, silently agreeing with Geoff.

    “As for who we are. Well, we’re freelancers. Just got finished with a job a little ways off, figured we’d check it out on our way back to HQ.”

    “Freelancers?” Gavin asked, “Like mercenaries? Killing people for money?”

    “We like to think what we do is a little more noble than that,” Geoff replied with a chuckle.

    “Is it?”

    Geoff was silent for a long time, and Gavin extended him the same mute courtesy that the man had offered to him just minutes earlier.

    “Sometimes,” Geoff said eventually with a finality to his voice that stopped even Gavin from prying further.

    “So you’re a bunch of possibly noble guns for hire and Imma--what’d you call me?”

    “A malnourished, suicidal Brit?”

    “Yeah, I’m that. So, what’s your plan then?” Geoff had said he wanted to help him, but would could a bunch of mercs possibly do for him? 538 years. He was alone. There was no point. Not anymore.

    “Well, we are guns for hire, yes, but we’re guns for hire with some pretty good connections. Ryan took a look around that space station while Jack and I were dealing with your unconscious ass. That cryo-chamber you’ve been using as a bed was a wild mess of outdated and brand new tech. He could barely make heads or tails of it.”

    “Cryo-chamber? I was frozen?”

    “Like a popsicle.”

    “Bloody hell,” Gavin breathed, finally stirring from his curled up position. He sat up slowly, not quite looking at Geoff.

    “You’re not gonna go mental again are you?” Geoff asked, warily eying Gavin’s figure hunched over on the cot.

    Gavin thought about it for a second, but his hands, clenched tightly in his sheets, didn’t itch to tear and rip and, his mind wasn’t fractured and burning.

    “ ‘m fine,” He muttered, breathing deeply, in through his nose, out through his mouth, “I want to know who did this to me.”

    Geoff stared at him, all of the sudden movement and talking finally surprising the other man.

    “538 years,” Gavin murmured,  “I need to know.”

    “We, uh, may be able to help you figure that out,” Geoff told him, still looking wary.

    Gavin looked up at him, and for the first time in what seemed like a millenia (538 years, actually) Gavin felt hopeful.

    “It may not help at all, but if you come with us back to the Mother of Invention, the Director might be able to do something for you.” Geoff watched Gavin, watched as his eyes, dead and flat just moments before, slowly began to fill with a watery, hesitant hope.

    “You don’t have to help me you know, just because of what happened.” 538 years.He had a small chance.

    Geoff smiled at him, his mouth curling up beneath his handlebar mustache.

    “Maybe the Director was right. You might be something of interest to us after all.”

    “That doesn’t sound creepy at all,” Gavin said with a low chuckle.

    “Trust me when I say I am the least creepy guy on this ship. Just wait ‘til you meet Ryan. That motherfucker's insane.” Geoff was still smiling, and Gavin had finally laughed, not the cold, humorless thing that had slithered out of his throat before, but a true, mirthful laugh that sent shivers up Geoff’s spine.

    Something of interest after all. 538 years.

Bloody fuck.

 

* * *

    Meeting the other freelancers had been a process. And by process Gavin meant they’re all bloody mental, and he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s the only sane person on the ship and that’s saying something because he still had deep, scabbing indentions running their crooked way down his face.

    Geoff was right, Ryan was one creepy motherfucker. But not in a weird serial killer, pedophile type of way. The guy was just way too smart, and his voice was like an endless, crashing ocean so it was easy to forget that Ryan was trained to kill and destroy and burn, and by the time you remembered you were already dead.

    Jack didn’t seem like the type of guy who could kill. He smiled too much, his words were too kind, and his eyes didn’t betray even one regret in their endless depths. The more Gavin stared into those eyes the more he thought that maybe Jack was the type of guy who could kill after all.

    Those three were the oldest, the most experienced. Geoff was the leader, top of the board, whatever the hell that meant. According to the others, he knew what he was doing, and he walked with the sort of quiet, hidden confidence that made Gavin believe them. Jack was solid, loyal, Geoff’s right hand man, and Gavin could understand why you’d want a guy like Jack at your back. Ryan handled the murkier stuff; no one went into much detail, but from what Gavin could glean, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details.

    The other two on the ship, Michael and Ray, were closer to Gavin’s age. Ray was a prodigy apparently, dead eye with a sniper rifle. So far, Gavin had only seen him nap and play video games. Even 538 years later, they still had those. Some things never change apparently.

    Michael--well, all Michael had done since Gavin had first ventured out of bed was glare at him. Geoff had said that’s just how he was, but Gavin wasn’t so sure. The guy was supposed to be great at hand to hand combat, one of their best. One thing was for sure, he sure as hell looked like he wanted to punch Gavin.

    It had only been two days, but Gavin found himself constantly tiptoeing past the curly haired freelancer, scared to even make small talk with him.

    He spent most of his time with Geoff or Ryan--who had hijacked Butler for what he had vaguely dubbed “harmless experimentation.” Gavin ate lunch with Jack his second day out of bed. Jack never strayed far from the cockpit, one too many autopilot malfunctions making him wary of leaving the controls alone for too long. The older gents were nice, never requiring too much conversation when Gavin just wanted to sit in silence, and they were always able to distract him from his own spiraling thoughts when need be.

    On the third day, Gavin had been quietly walking past Ray--who was playing some futuristic and overly-complicated looking video game--in search of Ryan to check in on Butler and make sure the android was still in one piece, when Ray paused the game and called out for Gavin to stop.

    Freezing in surprise, Gavin turned around to face the freelancer.

    “Wanna play?” Ray held out a controller, like a metaphorical touch screen olive branch.

    Hesitantly, Gavin reached out and took it, turning the strange device over in his hands, trying to make heads or tails of it.

    “That’s the limited edition retro-controller. Figured it be a little easier for you to understand,” Ray said, turning back to the screen and starting a new multiplayer game.

    Gavin sat down next to him on the couch in the small den. From what Gavin had seen, Ray rarely ever left it, only to sleep and occasionally for meals.

    Hazarding a guess at which buttons did what, Gavin opted for his usual video game strategy and smashed them all at once. On screen, his character promptly threw a grenade at its own feet and blew up.

    Ray snorted and walked his character over to speed up Gavin’s respawn.

    “Blue button’s shoot, green’s reload, yellow’s crouch, and orange is grenade. Try to not kill yourself this time.”

    “I make absolutely no promises,” Gavin replied with a grin and began firing randomly at the enemies on screen.

    Gavin didn’t realize Michael had been watching their impromptu video game session until the man leaned over the couch behind him. Gavin jumped, squealing in surprise.

    “Ray’s kicking your ass,” Michael noted with a smirk.

    “I’m bloody aware of tha--oh SAUSAGE!” Gavin yelled as his character fell to the ground dead.

    “You have to get to those energy cubes,” Michael advised, “They’ll block the lasers from the robots. Should give you enough time to shoot down the guys higher up.”

    Gavin didn’t want to take Michael’s advice, didn’t want to give the prick the bloody satisfaction, but he realized that the strategy was his only chance of catching up with Ray.

    Doing as Michael said--with much trial and tribulation and squawking on Gavin’s part--he managed to kill all of the enemies and make it to the checkpoint.

    “YES! Did you see that guys?” Gavin crowed with pride, beaming up at Michael and Ray. They shared a look, and between the two of them they came to a decision.

    “Scoot over,” Michael demanded, pushing Gavin’s shoulder lightly. Complying, Gavin felt the couch dip as Michael plopped down next to him and grabbed a control.

    “Start a new game, I’m joining,” Michael ordered, leering over at the other two.

    “Oh, it’s fucking on,” Ray replied, grinning back.

 

* * *

    Daytime on the small ship was pretty fucking top. Five other men who were freelancers from what was essentially the future to Gavin provided ample distractions for him. He spent his time asking them the weirdest questions he could think of and just generally being a nuisance. He and Geoff had started up a game of “Would you’s?” using hypothetical money. Geoff almost always went for the money, said it was the freelancer spirit in him.

    Nights on the other hand, were a different story. Gavin didn’t have Michael to rile up or Geoff to talk with or anything else to distract him from himself. He didn’t even have Butler. The android, content with the freelancers ability to keep Gavin sufficiently alive, had taken a real liking to Ryan and followed the man around almost everywhere.

    Gavin would lay in bed and stare at the metal ceiling, scared to sleep because he knew what was waiting for him on the other side of sleep’s door. Eventually though, he would always fall asleep.

    The same nightmare was always there to greet him: Dan and he snuggled happily under the stars on their threadbare blanket, half-empty bottles of booze littered around them as Lana del Rey played softly from the car. Gavin would watch, unable to do anything but stare in horror, as everything would burn up, melting, and he himself was dragged off into space, kidnapped by the stars themselves.

    It was Gavin’s fifth night on the ship when Geoff had to forcibly wake him up from the nightmare. The room was dark, barely there light creeping in from around the cracks on his door. Geoff was standing above him, worry etched deep on his face.

    “ ‘m okay,” Gavin muttered, brushing the tears from his cheeks before fisting his hands in his sheets.

    Geoff arched an eyebrow at him, silently questioning the veritability of that statement. But it was 2 am and he was tired as dicks, so he turned and shuffled his way back to the door.

    “Wait!” Gavin choked out, reaching towards Geoff with one hand.

    Geoff turned back towards him, the worry still fresh on his face. For a moment they both just waited in that silence, waiting for someone to move first. Gavin’s hand dropped back to his side, and his jaw clenched in a conscious effort to keep from shouting out again.

    Geoff sighed, because really, he needed to stop picking up strays from random corners of space, his ship was starting to get cramped. Nonetheless, he scooted Gavin over in his small bed and climbed in next to him, curling around Gavin’s skinny, shaking body.

    Gavin immediately relaxed back into Geoff’s embrace, the warm, sturdiness of it calming him. Geoff splayed his hand over Gavin’s bare stomach and tucked his chin over Gavin’s shoulder. He fell asleep within moments, and Gavin, feeling safe, finally, followed suit just minutes later.

    He dreamt of swimming among the stars. Far beneath him somewhere, he knew was Dan. Long dead, but still Dan. He could feel the stars urging him to let go, to move on, but he couldn’t. Something held him in place above that blue swirling planet, an invisible tether that kept him rooted to that perfect memory of his lovely, lovely Dan. His Dan that was no longer really there. 538 years. Dan was dead.

    “Dude, he died. People do that. Get over it,” Gavin turned slowly, the stars falling silent around him.

    There was Geoff’s ship, the Achievement Hunter, and Michael was floating next to it, glaring at Gavin like he was the world’s biggest dumbass.

    “Come back inside before you suffocate,” Michael said, waving Gavin over.

    Gavin woke up before he could decide to go inside or stay with his memories of Dan.

 

* * *

   

    Michael had lent Gavin some fresh clothes to wear, because to be completely honest, the strange cotton pants and shirt he had been wearing up until then were starting to get a bit rank.

    Michael was an inch or two shorter than Gavin, so the pants fell just short of covering his ankles, but the t-shirt was clean and well-worn; it smelled of metal and Michael and space, and Gavin had giggled ecstatically when he first put it on. Michael had shot him a weird look, but hadn’t questioned it, content that Gavin was finally in some clean clothes.

    Jack had announced that morning that they would be reaching the Mother of Invention before dinner. Gavin didn’t really know how he felt about this. He had enjoyed the last few days with the freelancers; playing video games with Ray and Michael, watching Ryan tinker with Butler, talking to Jack and Geoff. It had been nice.

    He supposed that he should be happy to finally have reached the Mother of Invention. That meant meeting the Director. That meant possible answers. But right now all he really wanted to do was curl up in a corner somewhere and just forget everything.

    And so, in the midst of Jack taking over the controls from the autopilot, and Geoff co-piloting next to him (read: drinking whiskey and singing along to the cheesy mix Jack had blaring in the cockpit), Gavin snuck away. He managed to avoid Ray and Ryan, sitting in the den excitedly talking about everything they couldn’t wait to do once they got of the ship. Michael was nowhere to be found, but Gavin wasn’t worried about that right now.

    His chest felt like it was slowly caving in under the pressure of his own mind and his skin was itching to be torn from his body, and all he really wanted to do was jump into the waiting embrace of the stars and join Dan in the twinkling nothingness.

    Gavin ended up near the back of the ship, tucked with his chin on his knees behind some half-empty supply crates. He sat there, eyes squeezed painfully shut, slowly rocking back and forth as wave after wave of unexplainable fear washed over him. The hardest part of it was, it could have been bearable, if he had tried to bear it. But, he didn’t want to. His arms were wrapped tightly around his legs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh on his thighs carving bloody moons into his skin.

    He had no idea how long he sat there, gently rocking, fighting against his own mind, even though he wanted so badly to give up. He heard the footsteps, the gentle gasp, the almost shout, and then the clack as whoever it was shut their mouth. He heard it all, but Gavin couldn’t quite find it in himself to care.

    Whoever it was sat down beside him, tucking up their knees beneath them. Strong arms wrapped around him, longer than Geoff’s; the hands were bigger. From blurry, half-closed eyes, Gavin saw the pale skin, the spray of freckles. Michael.

    Michael squeezed, gently, his warm breath washing over Gavin’s cheek, the air cool on the wetness it found there.

    Gavin stopped his rocking and instead leaned against Michael’s chest, burying his face in it’s sturdiness, like an anchor. Matching his breathing with the rise and fall of Michael’s chest, Gavin slowly began to calm down. The nervous vibrations that had been racking his body began to still, the static in his mind began to sort itself into something comprehensible.

    Gavin didn’t have Dan. He would never feel Dan’s strong, army built arm’s around him again. 538 years. Dan was dead. Gavin would probably never get over that. But, Gavin wasn’t alone. It had been 538 years, but he had found people again, and no matter how badly he wanted to crawl out of his body, this strange group of people, they would be his anchor. He didn’t have Dan, but maybe they could be just as good.

    Eventually, Jack’s voice crackled over the speakers, announcing that they were about to dock. That should have sent a fresh surge of panic through Gavin, should have sent him running to the far corners of space, as far from the Mother of Invention as possible. But, Michael took Gavin’s hand, squeezed it tightly and hauled him up with a soft smile. Michael was silent, and Gavin was glad. He didn’t think he could do anything but gasp brokenly right now.

    Michael lead him towards the exit hatch, walking slowly to give Gavin time to compose himself. By the time they had reached the others, Gavin had calmed down enough to slip amongst the happily chattering men without any weird looks. Gavin did see Geoff glance curiously at his and Michael’s linked hands, but one look up at Gavin told the older man all he needed to know.

    The hatch hissed open, spilling them out onto a bustling ship deck, armor-clad people hurrying this way and that. Standing in front of them was an older man with a wild halo of hair and an ever present air of “step-the-fuck-off” around him. Next to him was a redhaired lady busily typing away on a tablet as the man barked orders at her.

    Geoff called out a greeting to them, stopping the two in the middle of whatever work they were trying to hurriedly finish.

    The man sniffed, “Took you long enough to get back.”

    “Well, that little detour took a bit longer than expected,” Geoff replied with a rueful smile.

    The man looked at the group, dark eyes searching the faces before landing on Gavin. Under the judging, unblinking gaze, Gavin could feel himself crumbling, breaking down completely. Michael squeezed his hand, jerking back into solid reality and keeping him conscious for at least a few more minutes.

    “So there was something on that hunk of space trash after all,” the man noted, eyes never leaving Gavin.

    “Actually, Gus,” Ryan interjected, motioning towards Butler, “It just looked like trash from the outside, probably designed that way as protection. The inside was state of the art, some of it even exceeding our own equipment. Never seen anything like it, to be honest.”

    Gus tore his eyes from Gavin and walked over to Butler, inspecting the android with a critical eye.

    “Lindsay,” Gus barked, “Take this android to Monty. Have him take a look at what we’re dealing with. Ryan, go with her. Tell Monty what you saw.”

    “Aye aye cap’n,” Lindsay said with a mock salute. She turned on her heel and marched away, already back to tapping on her tablet. Ryan hurried after her with Butler in tow.

    Gavin watched them take Butler away, hoping Ryan would take could care of it, and not let this Monty bloke take the android completely apart.

    Distracted by the retreating figures, Gavin  realized he had lost track of the conversation; it wasn’t until he felt Michael anxiously tug on his arm that he realized everyone was looking at him.

    “What?”

    “He’s British?” Gus questioned, mild surprise coloring his face.

    “Yeah, kinda surprised us too,” Jack commented, “Along with the...you know, breakdown.”

    “Breakdown?” Gus looked at Gavin even more closely, “Who are you?”

    “G-Gavin Free?” Gavin stuttered out, the panic that had been bubbling in his stomach slowly rising up his throat.

    “How long were you in that space station?”

    “DON’T--fuck.” Geoff looked down at Gavin’s now unconscious body, crumpled in a heap on the floor.

    The kid had barely managed to whisper 538 before he had collapsed. Leave it to Gus, Geoff thought with a sigh.

    Hefting up Gavin’s body, he slowly began to make his way to the medical bay. Gus fell in step beside him, and together they left the other freelancers behind.

    “You’re not seriously thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?” Geoff asked, shifting Gavin’s dead weight slightly on his shoulder.

    “I may have been entertaining a few ideas,” Gus said, “I won’t do anything without proper research though,”He added after a stern look from Geoff.

    “Good. The kid’s strong, deep down. He’s got some fucked up baggage though. Be careful messin’ around with his brain.”

    “If everything goes according to plan, I won’t have to even touch his brain. Alpha will do all of that for me.”

 

* * *

    Gavin woke with a splitting headache and a familiar pinprick annoyance in the crook of his elbow. Panic shot through him as the familiar feeling of the tube closing in around him flooded his mind.

    “Anxiety levels rising. Calm the fuck down man.” The voice echoed inside of his head, dry and sarcastic.

    The surprise of having another voice in his head managed to distract him from the mental walls that had been slowly closing in around him.

    “What? Wh-who’s there?” Gavin squeaked out, opening his eyes to look around for the source of the voice. Even in the dimly lit medical bay, just that small amount of effort sent a shock a pain up his neck and through his head. Nausea washed over him, and his vision blurred. He flopped back down onto the cot, curling up around himself.

    “You should really fucking calm down there. You’re shit’s like, off the charts.”

    “I dunno who you bloody are, but if you could kindly stop making me feel like I’m going fuckin’ skitzo, that’d be top,” Gavin muttered through clenched teeth, still keeping his eyes squeezed tight against the throbbing pain in his head.

    “Gus didn’t explain?” The voice in his head asked, mild concern bleeding into the naturally sarcastic voice.

    “The last thing I remember of Gus is me making a right fool of myself in front of him. Bloody fainted, I did,” Gavin said, and in hindsight he really should have seen that coming. He was way overdue, all things considered.

    The voice snorted.

    “I do not need mocking from a disembodied voice,” Gavin bit back, “I could do with some lortab or at least some advil, though.”

    “Disembodied voices aren’t very good at carrying material objects,” the voice replied, dripping with sarcasm.

    “Right, well. Can’t you do anything useful besides being a right prick inside of my head?”

    “AI’s are meant mostly for more practical situations...like combat or strategy.”

    “AI? Like artificial intelligence AI? They stuck a bloody robot in my head?” Forgetting his pain for a moment, Gavin shot up in his cot and almost blacked out. Clutching his head between his hands, he breathed in and out very slowly, mentally shouting at his body to get its shit together.

    “Something like that,” the voice replied, quieter, sensing Gavin’s freakout levels rising again.

    “Why’re you in my head?” Gavin ground out, glaring at the backs of his eyelids. Geoff had promised to help him, to get him answers, not to put a fucking computer chip in his head.

    “Well, I can help you access the fuckton of repressed memories you have tucked away in here, so I suppose that’s what’s in it for you,” the voice replied after some thought.

    “Fancy AI technology can’t be cheap,” Gavin said, slowly opening his eyes, blinking against the light. “What’s in it for Gus?”

    “I don’t really think that’s something I’m authorized to tell you.”

    “Didn’t think so.” Gavin sighed, tugging his hands through his tangled hair, which was in bad need of a haircut, but he hadn’t been willing to let Butler near his head with scissors.

    “I don’t suppose you have a more physical form? Talking to myself is gonna drive me even crazier than I already am.”

    Gavin watched with wide eyes as a miniature figure flickered into existence in front of him. The pale blue ethereal man glared up at Gavin like he was an idiot.

    “Happy?”

    “Just tippers,” Gavin muttered, wincing as a fresh wave of pain hit him hard.

    “I’m gonna call someone in here, maybe they can get you some meds,” the figure said, floating over to touch screen mounted on the wall by the door. A green light began to flash on it, signaling that someone was on there way.

    “What do I--uh, call you anyways?” Gavin asked.

    “Alpha. Boringly obvious, I know,” Alpha sighed out, floating across the room to Gavin.

    “You know, when they finally found someone who could handle me in their head, I always assumed it’d be some big, brawny guy. Lots of muscle, not a lot of talking. You---well you certainly are a surprise.”

    “So I’ve been told,” Gavin replied drily, fixing his pillows so he could recline back comfortably and look at Alpha.

    “Pretty fucked up in here aren’t you?” Alpha asked, floating closer to Gavin’s head.

    Although he was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question, Gavin answered anyway, if only to be a sarcastic, bitter little shit, because he was in that kind of mood and dammit if he wasn’t entitled to it after the few weeks he’s had.

    “If by fucked up you mean my brain reflects the fact that I woke up weeks ago in an abandoned space station with only an android for company, found out that everybody I love is dead, and also that I’m 538 years out of time, and OH now--now I have a bloody computer in my head, then yes, I am quite fucked up. Thanks for noticing.”

    “Okay, so dude, you can’t see your brain right now, but the amount of repressed memories that just went slamming against your mental vault door was off the charts. You should really get something done about that.”

    Gavin shot Alpha a withering look, “I’m like 99% sure the reason they shoved you in my head was to fix that.”

    Alpha hovered right in front of Gavin’s nose, making him go cross-eyed to keep the small AI in focus.

    “Are you sure you want me to do that?”

    Gavin waved his hand through the AI, pushing him back to where he could see him comfortably. He stared at Alpha, not really focusing on him, just thinking. What if the tiny AI really could unlock everything that he had packed away all those years ago? He would finally know who froze him in a fucking cryo-chamber and shot him off into space. He’d find their closest living relative and tear them apart one limb at a time for all the pain they’d caused him.

    “Yeah, no, yeah I want you to do it. Help me remember. Do it now while I’m pissed off and already in pain.” Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, not quite sure what to expect.

    After a moment of silence, Alpha sighed and quietly said okay. Through his eyelids, Gavin saw Alpha’s faint blue light blink out. Gavin almost opened his eyes again, wondering if Alpha was going to do anything at all, when he suddenly jerked back, a flood of memories and emotions slamming into him all at once.

    His memories came back to him in broken fragments that slowly fitted themselves into one cohesive train of thought. His last night with Dan, sans the burning and screaming. Waking up the next morning far too happy for someone with a massive hangover. Going in to work on Monday. His memory skipped like a broken record, repeating the same scene over and over again as it tried to fill the gap.

    “Hang on,” He heard Alpha mutter from far off in the distance.

    A burst of static, and then suddenly Gavin sitting on a cold metal table, tubes and needles and weird suction cups stuck all over his body. His vision was blurry, wavering, like he’d been drugged. Men he’d never seen before came into the room and grabbed him, manhandling his deadweight body into a very familiar looking tube.

    Gavin watched as even in his drugged out state, past him realized something was wrong. He thrashed around, calling out for Dan, someone, anyone. But, nobody came, and Gavin watched as the men shut him inside the tube and froze him for the next 538 years.

 

* * *

Gavin came to covered in cold sweat and significantly more confused than he was ten minutes ago, which, all things considered, was saying something.

Geoff was sitting next to him, hand outstretched to run through Gavin’s hair.

“You alright there buddy?” He asked, rubbing slow, soothing circles on the back of Gavin’s

head.    

    Gavin leaned back into the touch and grunted, still trying to mentally sift through everything he had seen. Alpha, strangely enough, was quiet, but Gavin didn’t worry about that too much. Maybe his crazy brain had fried the poor bugger.

    “Wanna talk about it?”

    Gavin shook his head; he needed time to muddle through everything he had seen. The room, the men, everything had been foreign to him. The men had been average looking, nothing that would set them apart from the usual crowd. The only thing that had stuck out to him had been the matching tattoo each of them had on their right bicep. Stamped right onto their arm had been four simple black letters, UNSC. He had no idea what that meant; Geoff might know, but right now the slow circles Geoff was rubbing on the back of his head felt so damn good; Gavin just wanted to push closer to that warm safety and relax.

    He purred involuntarily, a quiet sound that vibrated from deep within his chest. Geoff chuckled, but didn’t stop petting Gavin. Eventually, he fell asleep, his dream plagued by men with strange tattoos and small, holographic men.

 

* * *

    “Gav. Gavin! Will you please just--Gavin! Fucking listen to me!” Michael chased after Gavin, slipping and sliding down the long hallway as the British man got farther and farther away.

    Alpha popped up next to Gavin as he ran. “Michael might actually have some useful information for you. He doesn’t have any protocols that restrict what he can and can’t tell you.”

    “You don’t think I bloody know that?”

    “Then why are you running?”

    “Last time I saw the bloke I was holding his hand and then I fainted, a little embarrassing innit?” Gavin turned a corner and smacked face first into Ryan.

    “Oh won’t all you bloody freelancers just SOD OFF!” Gavin yelled. He sidestepped the older man and went racing off down the hallway.

    Seconds later, Michael caught up to Ryan, panting hard.

    “What was all that about?” Ryan asked, turning dark, inquisitive eyes on Michael.

    “The fuck if I know...just wanted to ask him if he wanted to play a video game with Ray and I,” Michael tugged at his unruly curls and anxiously stared down the hallway where Gavin had disappeared.

    “Poor guy’s just going through a lot of shit right now. I mean, he did just get an AI implanted in his head. And Gus said that Alpha might help him figure out why he’s here. Gavin has every right to be a little flighty right now.” Ryan patted Michael comfortingly on the back and then kept walking, heading towards the tech labs.

    Michael sighed, but begrudgingly admitted to himself that Ryan was right. He had no idea what Gavin was going through. Thrust into a whole different time period with no idea how he got there? Yeah, Michael couldn’t offer Gavin much in the way of advice, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t support the guy.

    Letting it go for now, Michael made his way back to Ray, and they played the next few levels with one less player (and to be honest they finished them faster than they would have if Gavin had been there, but had significantly less fun--and less team kills).

   

* * *

    Gavin may or may not have been kinda sorta hiding in a broom closet. Or rather, he was sitting in a broom closet glaring at a wall while Alpha repeated the same information that he been reciting for Gavin since that morning.

    “UNSC. The United Nations Space Command. An organization that works as an ambassadorial link between different planetary civilizations.”

    “I understand that!” Gavin interrupted, “I just wanna know why the bloody hell two people with UNSC tattoos kidnapped and froze me!”

    “As I have said before, I have no information on that. All data on the UNSC is limited to what is publicly known.”

    Gavin anxiously ran his hands through his hair and tried to work through it all in his mind. UNSC. 538 years. Why him? Why any of this?

    The closest door flew open and silhouetted in the bright light that poured in was Project Freelancer’s director, Gus Sorola. Gavin almost shat himself.

    “Look, enough lies. Enough secrets. I’m going to give you the facts. All about the UNSC. All about Project Freelancer. Gavin Free, you’re special, even if you don’t look it. They wanted you, but we got you. We’re going to make use of that. Will you cooperate?” Gus’s no nonsense tone and steely gaze captured Gavin like an ant under a magnifying glass.

    “Not sure I have much of a choice here,” Gavin said.

    “I have found that making it seem like people have a choice makes them more likely to chose in my favor,” Gus replied with a small smile.

    “Well then, I’ve been looking for answers, so I’d be a right fool to back out now.” Gavin stood up and dusted off his pants.

    Gus turned on his heel and strode away, expecting Gavin to follow. Which he did. They hurried down several hallways, taking so many turns and side passageways that Gavin was positive they weren’t even on the same ship any more.

    Stopping outside a heavy metal door, the only one in the entire hallway, Gus punched in the code to unlock it and ushered Gavin inside. Once the door shut behind them, Gus seemed to relax. His stoic, tense shoulders softening, his poker face facade cracking slightly.

    “Can never be too careful,” He muttered to himself, and then, to Gavin, “Wanna drink?”

    Walking over to a small fridge, Gus pulled out two beers and held one up to Gavin. Nodding gratefully, Gavin took the glass from him and took a hearty swig. The beer slid down his throat, bitter and cold, and settled heavy and calming in his stomach

    Gus collapsed into the wing-backed chair behind the huge desk that took up most of the room. Motioning to the chair opposite him, Gus picked up some papers that were scattered around his desk, looking for something in particular.

    Still searching through the papers, Gus started talking.

    “Project Freelancer, officially, is just a research project that was granted special field testing privileges by the UNSC. At least, that’s how we started out, but as we got more advanced and required more field excursions, the UNSC began to monitor us more closely, which seemed a little suspicious to us, seeing as we weren’t doing anything illegal or particularly alarming. That was the first time we did a little digging into the UNSC. They didn’t like that too much. Before they managed to shut down our hackers, we unearthed some information.”  
    Gus tossed down the papers he had been sorting through in front of Gavin. It was schematics for suits similar to the freelancers. Scrawled notes littered the edges of the drawings and words like “no AI” and “advanced enhancements” leapt out at Gavin.

    “While Project Freelancer had been cooperating with the UNSC, none of the equipment we were developing had been promised to them explicitly. So, finding our own schematics in their database had been a little worrying. After that, we decided we needed to turn our digging into a proper investigation. We sent in some agents, did some more hacking.” Gus laughed bitterly, taking another swig of his beer.

    “Turns out our lovely UNSC, sworn to protect us and intergalactic peace and all that shit, was a lot more corrupt than we thought.”

Gus put his beer down and typed out something on his computer. All around them holographic information filled the room, pictures, newspaper excerpts, confidential files. They were projected all around the two men. Gavin stood up and began to peruse them.

“This is years of heavy espionage,” Gus said, motioning around the room, “And basically all it tells us is that the UNSC has had a goal from the very beginning. Since before there even officially was an UNSC. Nowadays, they are orchestrating everything from intergalactic crimes to weapon manufacturing to what mercenaries fight for who. And you Gavin, or as they refer to you, Patient 00, you are the key to all of this.”

“What?” Gavin walked over to the file Gus was looking at. Confidential was stamped across the title “Patient 00”. Below that it said “Departure May 17, 2014.” The rest of the text was blurred out, but the picture of Gavin that was attached to it was crystal clear.

Stumbling backwards, the back of Gavin’s legs hit something and he collapsed into his chair in shock.

“They--they’ve had this planned out all along. I’ve just been--I’ve been a bloody pawn for them! And you!” Gavin pointed an accusatory finger at Gus, “It’s not a coincidence that you put Alpha in my head!”

“Part of my incentive for implanting Alpha in your head was for insurance, yes, but that does not mean that we are not on your side.” Gus walked over to lean against his desk in front of Gavin.

“You have woken up in the middle of a war. A war of secrets and lies and espionage, and nobody actually knows what’s going on, we’re all just kind of winging it. All I know is that the UNSC, they’re the bad guys, and the bad guys want you, so now I’ve made it my number one priority to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Gus looked down at Gavin, his face impassive.

In that moment, Gavin felt the weight of everything that had happened to him come crashing down on his shoulders. He was no longer just some poor sap that got caught up in some bad shit; he was meant to be here. He was Patient 00, whatever the bloody hell that meant. He had a purpose, and that purpose was going to send him spiralling down into self-destruction.

“I--I have to go,” Gavin muttered, standing quickly from his chair.

Gavin wasn’t quite sure how he did it, but his legs had gone into autopilot, dragging his body down countless winding hallways, bringing him slowly back into civilization. He didn’t know where he was or where he was going, but it didn’t matter at this point. He could feel the panic creeping back in, blurring his vision and settling hot and uncomfortable in his chest.

“Dude! Gav--Gavin!” Michael’s voice slowly broke through his mental haze and he looked up from where he had been staring at the ground. Michael was standing in the doorway to his room looking at Gavin worriedly.

“Gavin, are you okay? What happened?” Michael took a step towards Gavin, reaching out a hand.

Without even thinking, because fuck everything at this point, Gavin launched himself at Michael, burying himself in that solid chest, feeling those strong arms circle comfortingly around him

“Shhh, Gavin, shhh, it’s okay. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

Except he wasn’t safe, quite the opposite actually. But, Gavin’s body had dragged him here to forget that. To forget all of that. Gavin looked up Michael’s face, the freckled skin scrunched up in concern.

Gavin shifted his body, slowly rubbing up against Michael. Burying his face in Michael’s neck, Gavin let his warm breath ghost over the sensitive skin, raising goose bumps. Michael breathed in sharply, body going rigid. Gavin rolled his hips against Michael’s again and pressed soft kisses into his neck. Kissing his way from Michael collarbone to his ear, Gavin whispered, “Michael, please.”

It was a plea, for help, for comfort, for release, and Michael knew it.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

    Michael tripped backwards into his room, pulling Gavin with him. Kicking the door closed behind him, he leaned close to Gavin, their lips almost touching. Michael looked deep into Gavin’s big, watery eyes, and all the pain and confusion and anxiety that had been plaguing Gavin washed over onto Michael, and all he wanted to do was take that away from him.

    Softly, Michael closed the minute distance between their lips; he moved his hand to tangle gently in Gavin’s hair, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his head.

    For a while, they just kissed; Gavin melting into Michael’s body, pliable and wanting. But, he seemed like he was waiting for guidance, for instruction.

    Michael broke the kiss, pulling back to move Gavin from his lap to between his legs. Catching on, Gavin eagerly began pawing at Michael’s pants, trying to unzip them and pull them down. Michael swatted his hands away, instead grasping Gavin’s jaw in his hand and pulling him up for another kiss.

    Michael ran his other hand under Gavin’s shirt and up his chest, exploring the skinny, concaved expanse. Gavin moaned breathily into Michael’s mouth, pressing into the touch.

    It was like they had been standing on a precipice, each of them waiting for the one to jump, but in the end they both ended up falling head first to the bottom. Where moments before everything had been languid and settled and understood, it was now rushed and electric.

    They were fumbling hands and breathy laughs and wet, pliant mouths. Gavin looked to Michael for guidance every step of the way, silently asking for Michael to tell him what to do.

    Michael wasn’t sure he understood completely, but the anchoring grip Gavin had on his hip and the content smile Gavin lazily beamed at Michael as they lay tangled together on his bed reassured him that whatever hyperactive gears had been turning in Gavin’s head had finally slowed down to a bearable speed.

 

* * *

    It took Gavin six more days of mental pep talks, falling in and out of bed with three other freelancers, and one more terrifying chat with Gus to finally convince himself that he was making the right choice.

    It had been 538 years. Everyone he loved was dead. Dan was dead. But, Gus was right; there was a war going on, and whether he liked it or not he was just as tangled up in it as everyone else.

    He was going to find the men who had done all of this to him and he was going to tell them to sod off, and then he was going to let Michael and Ryan tear them limb from bloody limb.

    Gavin had no idea how long it would take, had no idea what he would do after it was all over, but none of that mattered. He had a habit of living in the present; granted, waking up 538 years out of time had kind of thrown off his game, but he was _back_.

    Gavin was ready to fuck shit up again, with or without Dan by his side; he bloody well hoped the rest of the universe was ready for him.

 


	2. "if i stumble, they're gonna eat me alive"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fate 500 years in the making, the freelancers are still just winging it, and a maelstrom is really just a fancy name for a shitstorm. And that's what Gavin's life is: a shitstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? A sequel? From me? Please forgive me and my heavy procrastination. This sequel has been tentatively titled "There is no war in Ba Sing Se (or space)" For several months now and it hurt to part with that title. Please enjoy!

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Michael grumbled, hesitantly moving around in his newly modified armor. Stretching his arms up and out, he carefully rolled his shoulders around, testing the limitations of the new armour.

Gavin shrugged. “Don’t ask me. This was all Alpha and Monty. I was just the poor bloke stuck in the room with them for hours.”

Alpha popped up beside Gavin, his faint blue glow highlighting the hollows of Gavin’s cheeks.

“Don’t fucking question my masterpiece. It’s going to work perfectly--I think,” Alpha made a shooing motion with his hands. “Now, go test it out. Ryan and Ray are waiting.”

Michael heaved a sigh but donned his helmet and headed out into the training room where Ryan and Ray were already waiting in their regular gear.

Michael jerked his head around to ask one more time if they were  _ absolutely  _ sure this shit  wouldn’t kill him, but Gavin had already joined Geoff, Jack, and Monty on the observation deck.

Michael sighed again, his breath fogging up the inside of his helmet. With a quiet whir a fan activated and dispelled the condensation. One thing worked at least. Not that it really calmed Michael’s nerves.

A week ago, Gavin, at Monty and Alpha’s request, had taken Michael's armor for “science-y reasons and all that” and had holed himself up with his AI and the head of tech to mess around with the armor. Supposedly they had added some type of delay enhancement with speed boosts in his legs to help him in battle. Monty had tried to explain the logistics of it, but all Michael had gathered was some weird AI type thing in his suit would kick in during battle and activate the enhancement--all he had to do was punch, kick, and shoot. Easy enough for him.

“You ready?” Ryan asked, hefting up his brute shot. The dude just couldn’t resist a pretty looking weapon.

“Pssh, no one’s ever ready for us,” Ray said, his tone flat as he studied Michael, sharp eyes hidden behind his polarized helmet.

Ryan and Ray were both formidable individually, but together they made a terrifying pair. Ryan was ruthless. Whether you were friend or foe, the guy didn’t really care. And Ray, well Ray was a genius, had weapons hidden on him out the wazoo, and the dude was fast. Like, scary fast. Gavin had called him Usain Bolt once, whatever the hell that meant, but Ray had been smitten with the name Bolt ever since and literally joked about it all the time. It was awful.

Michael crouched down into a basic fighting stance, waiting for the buzzer to sound. Taking a deep breath, he tried to empty his mind, think only in terms of kick and punch and shoot. This was what he was good at. The reason he was a Freelancer. Sure, he couldn’t snipe like Ray or rip off people’s heads with his bare hands like Ryan, but he still had his own talents. Jack-of-all-trades as they say.

When the buzzer sounded, Michael feinted right and rolled left, anticipating Ray’s early strike; his one advantage was that he knew how these two fought. 

Ryan came at him with a simple body check, using his brute shot as a shield. Michael braced himself to take the hit, but a small ding went off in his left ear, and  something began to whir in his suit. Deciding to trust Monty and Alpha, Michael switched his strategy, lunging to the right. To his pleasant surprise, he practically flew through the air, landing light on his feet and several seconds ahead of Ryan. In front of the purple freelancer was a fading imprint of Michael blinking into non-existence.

Faintly, he heard whoops of joy from the observation deck, but there was no time to focus on that one small victory--Ray had snuck around behind him. Michael  could sense him more acutely than he had ever been able to before.

Ray lunged at him, serrated knife extended from his left hand. Michael moved into auto-pilot, letting his body automatically dodge and weave away from the onslaught of attacks as it acclimated to his newly acquired abilities. 

The delay took a little bit of getting used to; he had to alter his usual attack style slightly to accommodate for the confusion of his opponents every time their attack only passed through a fading image of him. As the fight went on though,  Ryan and Ray began to anticipate the new enhancement, adjusting themselves faster to keep up with Michael.

So, Michael altered his style again, his one true talent was his ability to change his tactics at the drop of a dime. He fell back into a defensive stance, letting Ryan and Ray come at him freely, dodging at just the last second to throw them off balance.

Michael whirled left, dodging a fast slash from Ray that cut through his holographic self. Drawing his leg up, he aimed a sharp kick at Ryan’s sternum, but before he could make contact a loud buzzer went off in the training room, signaling an announcement. Ryan caught Michael’s foot easily enough and all three of them froze, listening.

Lindsay’s voice crackled over the speakers. “All active agents in Project Freelancer please report to the briefing room. Also, Gavin and Monty, since you’re both going to come anyway.”

Ryan dropped Michael’s foot to the ground with a heavy thud. Ray had already removed his helmet.

“A mission?” he questioned, “Now?”

“Lindsay sounded pretty serious…” Ryan replied, heading towards the training room’s exit.

Ray and Michael tramped after him, up through the observation deck and into the briefing room.

Lindsay was leaning against the large, sleek table that filled the middle of the room, her auburn hair swept up into a messy bun. Various papers and blinking tablets were strewn about, but Lindsay’s eyes were trained on Michael as he entered the room. She quirked an eyebrow at him, silently asking if he was okay.

Michael rolled his eyes at her; of course he was okay. He knew what was coming, knew what needed to happen, but he could handle it. They all could...at least, the freelancers could. Michael and Lindsay both turned their gazes to Gavin who was excitedly talking with Monty about Michael’s armour.

On the far side of the table, Gus was messing around with one of the holo screens, but as all the freelancers trooped into the room, he turned around, the blue light casting ominous shadows over his deeply lined face.

Breaking off mid-conversation with Monty, Gavin looked curiously around the room, eyes darting from holoscreen to holoscreen drinking in the information. Alpha was suspiciously absent. 

Turning to Lindsay, Gus barked, “Get Barb in here. They will be leaving soon.”

Gavin jumped slightly at the sound of Gus’s voice, turning to stare wide-eyed at the Director. The freelancers had not gone on a mission since Gavin had arrived at the Mother of Invention. Now that he knew why they had taken such an interest in him, anything pertaining to the UNSC made the guy skittish. 

Lindsay was making another announcement over the speakers requesting that Barb report to the briefing room, her voice serious, almost  _ sad _ .

“Gus, what’s going on?” Geoff stepped forward, his easy going attitude undermining the urgency that the rest of the room felt.

Something was going on, they all knew it. Technically they were not supposed to know. In the event of their capture, that was Gus’s excuse, at least, but Gavin had a big mouth and was too anxious to keep a secret like that from anyone. 

Gus sighed, his shoulders sagging. He picked up a remote from the table and pressed one of the buttons. The lights in the room dimmed and a video on the main holoscreen began to play.

 

_ “Dear Director, _

_ It has come to our attention that your are no longer using the equipment that we funded for the good of the galaxy. I am afraid we will be shutting you down. _

The man on-screen looked up from his tablet, making piercing eye contact with everyone in the room.

_ Your freelancers must turn in their suits, along with all other equipment and schematics to the UNSC. We will be paying your facilities a visit soon to collect these items. The UNSC wishes you the best of luck in your future endeavours.  _

The man put down the tablet completely and leaned forward slightly, narrowing his ice chip eyes.

_ A piece of closing advice director, it would be in your best interest to stand down and do as we say. We wouldn’t want any...accidents.  _

The screen went black, clouding the room in hazy darkness before Gus turned the lights back on. 

“They’re on to us. They know we have Gavin; they know we are fighting back.” Gus looked around the room at the freelancers; Barbara had slipped in at some point, and she winked at him as his gaze swept over her.

“Geoff, you will take Gavin and any important equipment. Get as far away as possible, we will throw them off your trail.” Gus looked over at Barbara, “You’re flying, they’ll need a better ship than that old hunk of junk Geoff loves.”

Geoff made a wounded noise, but remained silent. 

Gus continued, “Monty, take Ryan and collect any equipment that shouldn’t fall into the UNSC’s hands. Load it onto Barb’s ship.” 

Monty, Ryan, and Barbara all left, murmuring worriedly among themselves. 

Michael could feel Gavin vibrating beside him, and right as Gavin made the lunge to slip out of the still open door, Michael reached out and grabbed his hand. Gavin was sweating, and his hand was shaking in Michael’s grasp, but the steadying grip calmed Gav down enough to keep him from running. In Michael’s eyes, that was an improvement.

Ray walked up on the other side of Gavin, another anchoring presence among the tumult that Gavin was feeling.

“We aren’t just abandoning you guys,” Geoff told Gus indignantly, the usual soft lines of his body bowing up. 

“You aren’t abandoning us,” Gus replied in the voice he reserved only for Geoff, his oldest friend,  “We can hold our own. You are protecting Gavin and that equipment. You’re doing your job.” Gus was firm and the tired look of resignation on his face kept Geoff from arguing any more.

* * *

 

Barbara was directing the boys as they loaded up the RTX, barking orders, telling them to put boxes here, place equipment there.

Ray had led Gavin straight to the ship, leaving Michael to gather up extra clothes and food with Jack. When it came to things like this, packing up, preparing for a long flight, the freelancers had it down to a science. Ryan and Monty trekked in and out of the hangar, carrying armfuls of tech they didn’t want to fall into the UNSC’s hands.

Situating Gavin in one of the RTX’s many seats, Ray crouched down  between his legs, and looked straight into his shifting eyes.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Ray murmured, reaching one hand up to brush softly against Gavin’s face, “Gus knows what he is doing.”

Gavin’s nod was barely perceptible, but he leaned his cheek into Ray’s hand, and his eyes were calmer, so Ray figured it was safe, for a little while at least, to go help the other freelancers. 

When Gavin got like that, like he was going to vibrate right out of his skin, none of them ever wanted to leave him alone. As it was, Gavin was rarely ever without a freelancer standing beside him, a constant steadying presence.

Outside the spacecraft Barbara was yelling at Michael. 

“To the left. The  _ left _ , Michael! Don’t you know where your fucking left if? No, NO! A little bit to the right. Jesus Christ! Just, just put it down. I’ll do it myself.” Barbara stomped past Ray and grabbed the stack of boxes Michael had been trying to move for her. She marched perfunctorily three steps to the left, half a step forward and a tad over to the right. She placed the boxes down and threw a smug look over her shoulder at the two of them.

Michael stood next to Ray, glowering. Ray glanced at him with an arched brow.

“That’s what I did,” Michael muttered, his lips curling up in a pout. Ray snorted; even in such a tense situation, with everyone around them hustling here and there, preparing for an unknown enemy, Michael was still just so _ Michael _ .

Just then, Ryan and Monty came hurrying into the bay, haphazard piles of half-built armor clutched in their arms. Both Ray and Michael moved to help them, grabbing random bits of armour to load onto the ship.

Loose wires and unpainted metal shone dully in their hands, and briefly Ray wondered what kind of enhancements they held locked within them. Then Geoff was marching into the hanger, Gus and Lindsay behind him. And then he was yelling for them all to board the ship and for Babs to get ready for take-off. It was time to go. Time to leave the Mother of Invention for good. Even Ray knew there was no coming back. Not after what was about to happen.

And it hurt Ray. Hurt him so goddamn  _ much  _ to leave all of his friends here, Gus, Lindsay, Monty...the freelancers were their best fighters, and they were abandoning them. But he knew Gus was right, Gavin and that new equipment were top priority.

The freelancers were all on board. Michael buckled up next to Gavin, their hands clasped together as Michael murmured reassuringly in his ear. Jack was up front with Barbara, copilotting as always. Geoff was helping Ryan with the equipment. Everything was as it should be. Time to go--

“Wait!” Gavin burst out, jumping up from his seat only to have his restraints jerk him back down. “Butler!”

“What?” Michael was trying to grab Gavin’s hand again, keep him calm, but Gavin jerked away from him, trying desperately to undo his seatbelts.

“Butler! I need Butler!”

Michael was looking anxiously at Ray, trying to figure out what Gavin needed, desperate to give it to him. Ryan rushed past them without a word, reopening the hatch and storming back through the hanger. Outside the ship, everyone was staring at the freelancer, curious about the noise.

Gavin was close to nuclear, his eyes huge and watery, his hands shaking, even after Michael managed to get a hold of them again. Michael hadn’t seen him this bad since...well, since that time in the old supply closet. That seemed so long ago now, like an ancient past. 

Everyone else had loaded onto the ship, and even Michael, who was always the best at getting Gavin to calm down, couldn’t seem to do anything for the man. The way his eyes crinkled in concern and how tightly he clutched Gavin’s hand showed just how much Gavin’s inner turmoil hurt him.

Ryan came jogging back through the hanger, Butler flung over his shoulder, the android’s head bouncing against Ryan’s muscular back, its face twisted up in bemusement.

He hadn’t even clambered aboard fully before he was dumping Butler in Gavin’s lap, a quick reassuring kiss pressed into Gavin’s forehead before he was yelling at Barbara to take off.

“We need to get as far from here as possible. They’re coming, and we don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

The RTX roared to life and the freelancers scrambled to sit down and buckle up. Ryan sat down on the other side of Gavin, helping him reorient the confused android, who had been rather abruptly grabbed from Monty’s lab and rushed through throngs of people to the ship.

They flew for hours, Barbara guiding them through the far reaches of space, seeking out the most remote safe house they had. Finally, she landed them on a miniscule planet, nothing more than a oversized rock floating through space really, but stretching across its barren landscape was a fully-operational safe house complete with basic labs and enough food to last them months.

Hopefully they wouldn’t be there that long. Babs had barely stopped to let them off and help them unload before she was back in her ship, giving them a cheeky salute to hide the worry digging deep inside of her. She flew off again, telling Geoff she would be back as soon as she could to bring them news.

And so, they settled in. 

Alpha had Gavin take up residence in the labs, and with Ryan’s help, they got back to work on the suits. Michael and Ray trained, Geoff drank, and Jack busied himself with cleaning up the facilities, dusting and sweeping, anything to keep himself busy.

They all settled into an uneasy routine as they awaited news from the Mother of Invention.

* * *

 

“Look,” Alpha was floating close to Gavin’s head, glowing a dark, irritated shade of blue as he argued with Ryan, “If we mess with the core, we run the chance of the suit overpowering its wearer.”

“Yes, but if we have you in there, then that’ll help lessen the brunt of it, making it usable,” Ryan argued back, running his hand through his hair, a habit of his when he got frustrated.

“We can’t just put Gavin in a freelancer suit!” Alpha almost yelled, his voice getting shrill.

“That’s not what I meant!” Ryan bit back.

With a weary sigh, Gavin moved in front of Ryan, putting a hand on his chest to calm him (and keep him from tackling the AI). 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Gavin told them, “We got a lot done, but I think we all need some rest.”

“We can’t just rest, Gav,” Ryan said, leaning into Gavin’s touch slightly, “We have no idea what’s happening back at the Mother of Invention. We need to get these suits ready, as soon as possible.”

“I know, I know...and we will! But, if you two are just gonna fight the whole time, nothing is going to bloody get done, is it?”

“Fuck. The kid’s right,” Alpha said, “Let’s just call it a day.”

The AI blinked into nonexistence, leaving Ryan and Gavin alone in the lab. With a worn out sigh, Ryan leaned heavily against the lab table, uncaring of the machine parts scattered across it. 

Gavin wasn’t really used to not being the one off-kilter, but he still caught Ryan’s hand as he went to tug it harshly through his hair again. They stood there for a moment, Gavin standing in front of Ryan, just close enough to count the faint scars scattered like nebulas across his face.

“You need to relax,” Gavin murmured, leaning forward to kiss the corner of Ryan’s mouth.

The freelancer didn’t reply; he just exhaled slowly, melting forward into Gavin, and for all his bulk and muscle, he was still so gentle when it came touching Gavin. 

Gavin continued to kiss Ryan, gently across his cheek and into the crook of his neck, a slight nip on his collarbone and down he went, dragging his hands down Ryan’s hips to his belt.

Gavin was so used to being the one that need calming down, for a moment he didn’t know what to do. So, he slipped into what he knew: the easy undoing. 

Gently, Ryan carded his broad hands through Gavin’s hair, his fingers tensing as Gavin mouthed at him through his boxers, already damp with precum. Freeing Ryan’s cock from the confinement of his boxers, Gavin swallowed down as much as he could, mindful of his gag reflex. 

Gavin licked up the length of it, teasing the slit, doing everything he knew how to do, feeling as the tension in Ryan changed from anxious stress to expectant pleasure. He came, the salty liquid, dripping out of the corner’s of Gavin’s mouth, but Ryan didn’t seem to care when he lifted Gavin up and drew him into a deep kiss. 

Later, when the two of them joined the rest of the freelancers for dinner, Geoff gave Ryan a knowing look, but didn’t say anything.

* * *

 

Though the safe house had plenty of bedrooms to house all of the freelancers, after the first night of restless sleep and a scared shitless Gavin crawling into Jack’s bed, they had made a pallet out of all of the mattresses in the main den big enough for all of them to sleep together.

So, when the blinding light of a ship docking came pouring in through the bay windows, it woke them all up, sending the freelancers stumbling for their weapons. Alpha blinked to life beside Gavin who was rubbing the groggy sleep out of his eyes.

He blinked at the blurry figure that was settling into view outside of the windows, wind whipping through her hair.

“Oh thank Christ, it’s only Barbara,” Geoff flopped back onto the pallet, letting his gun slide to the floor. 

Most of them were only in boxers, so they struggled to pull on pants and make themselves decent before Barb marched in and started yelling at them.

“Something’s wrong,” Ray muttered, peering through the thick, reinforced glass, “Why is she running?”

Ray was right, Barbara had parked her beloved RTX far away from the compound and was sprinting towards them. As she ran closer, Gavin discerned blood dripping down her face and drying in her hair, turning the blond strands rusty. 

Barbara began to wave frantically at them as Jack rushed to open one of the portals to let her in, but it was too late, behind her the ship exploded, a red hot ball of fire and metal flinging itself towards the pilot.

The freelancers sprung into action, Jack rushing for his medical kit, Geoff struggling to put on his armor so he could brave the fire to get to Barbara.

Gavin felt useless, as usual, watching the others, but Alpha settled on his shoulder and reminded Gavin that he was the most helpful when he stayed out of the way. 

So, he did, watching as Michael and Ray braced themselves by the portal door, opening and closing it quickly for Geoff, wary of letting any radiation from the ship’s wreckage inside.

Geoff ran towards where they had last seen Barbara, scooping her burned body from the smoking wreckage and carrying her fireman style back inside.

Ryan and Jack went to work treating her burns and other wounds, both murmuring worriedly over a broken arm that had to have happened before she flew to the safe house.

It took all of Gavin’s willpower to not ask if she was okay every five seconds, but he knew that interrupting them now, when Barbara was in such critical condition, could prove disastrous. 

He waited some more. Waited as Geoff and Ray went off to go attempt to contact the Mother of Invention. Waited as Michael paced back and forth in front of Barbara’s prone body. Waited as Jack yelled at Michael to get out if he was going to be so distracting. Waited as Michael stormed off.

Gavin had a lot of practice in waiting.

538 years of practice to be exact. 

A few more hours of waiting wouldn’t kill him--it was Barbara he wasn’t so sure about.

 

Barbara was unconscious for three days. After bandaging her up the best they could, Jack and Ryan declared that she needed rest. They tucked her away in the small medical room, the freelancers taking turns watching over her. 

Gavin avoided the room like the plague.

It terrified him, what Barbara’s burned, unconscious body meant.  _ Your fault. It’s your fault. All your fault.  _ It kept running through his head, a mocking theme song to the guilt that already lay deep in his bones.

Barbara joined Dan in his dreams, her broken arm reaching out to Gavin, grasping at him as he floated farther away, unable to help. Always unable to help.

On the fourth day Barbara awoke, and after much fussing by Jack and three glasses of water, she unravelled her tale in a gravelly, world-weary voice.

“At first, it was just one small ship. A peace convoy, they said. Sent simply to collect the equipment.”  _ And Gavin _ , went unsaid. She continued.

“Gus denied having any armor beyond the normal UNSC caliber. Of course they didn’t believe him; they’ve seen the freelancers in action. That’s when the other ships entered our space. So many--there was so many,” her voice cracked and Jack held another glass of water to her lips.

When she finished drinking, she said, “Everyone fought so  _ bravely _ . Until the end. When the tide turned, Gus sent me to warn you. I--I don’t know what happened to them. I don’t know who’s still alive.”

Silence. No one knew how to react: anger, sadness, resignation. For once, Gavin did not want to run away, didn’t want to fade into the shadows. He felt as though his veins were on fire, coursing with an emotion he had never truly felt until now. Unbridled passion, fury, the need for revenge. This wasn’t his fault. This was all the UNSC. 

“We shouldn’t have abandoned them.” It’s Geoff who voices Gavin’s thoughts, turning to his freelancers, “We are taking that armor, and we are going to stop the UNSC, for good.”

And just like they had so many times before, the freelancers sprang into action, gathering weapons, preparing for battle.

Ryan grabbed Gavin, the two of them running to the lab to gather up all the usable armor they had.

Gavin glanced at Ryan, holding a modified helmet in his hands, “Do you think everyone can handle it?” The armor was untested; they were prototypes, at best.

“There’s no better place to test it than the heat of battle.”

“Well,” Gavin muttered, picking up an arm piece, “I can think of a few.”

They fell back into silence, assembling the armor as fast as possible, strapping it onto the other freelancers as they went.

* * *

 

“What about Barbara?”

They were back in the med bay, the fully armored freelancers hovering over her bed like strange, mechanized bugs. 

She waved her bandaged hand in the air, cringing slightly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Come get me when you’ve kicked their lousy asses.”

Jack looked unsure, hands hovering over her still prone body as if there was more he could do.

Geoff laid a hand heavy on his shoulder. “Jack, the best thing we can do for her is go and fight.”

“And win,” Ray added.

And that was it. No more running. No more hiding. 

Hidden behind the safe house’s small docking bay was a transport ship big enough for the six of them. Jack got to work powering it up and preparing for flight ,while Ryan and Gavin fussed with the last bits of armor. 

A hollow silence had settled over the freelancers: no one wanted to breach it. Every time Gavin blinked he saw Barbara's prone body enveloped in brilliant flames. They all saw it, over and over again like a broken movie, and none of them even wanted to imagine what waited for them back at the Mother of Invention. 

They took off, leaving Babs safely ensconced on the their little hunk of rock tucked away in a corner of the galaxy. As they flew on, tensions mounted in the small craft. Michael paced the length of the ship, back and forth, muttering quietly to himself. A strange pregame of sorts for the most dangerous battle of their lives. Jack and Geoff locked themselves away in the cockpit, strategizing as they flew.

Ryan and Ray were silent, none of the usual banter flowing between them. This was not a mission. This was war. They were fighting for their home, for the people they loved.

Gavin--Gavin had lost all of that a long time ago, but he knew the importance of fighting to save it all. And, the aching emptiness that had taken up residence inside of him ever since he had lost it all, well, he would never wish that on any of the freelancers.

Dropping everything to help him, to protect him. Maybe not exactly understanding his fucked up neurosis, but helping him through every panic attack, every lapse in sanity, that meant more to him than his own life.

He would do anything to protect them.  _ Anything _ .

* * *

 

Unassuming--the Mother of Invention floats there, suspended in a moment of time where no one is dead, where there is no war, where the freelancers are just returning, tired but satisfied, from another mission. 

But, the docking bay is filled with UNSC ships, a harsh reminder of the battle that rages on inside of their home, and their radio rings with silence, no warm greetings after a job well-done. 

“Everybody ready?” Geoff’s voice, their constant anchoring point, reminds them of the battle.

“Gav,” Michael looms in front of him, his warm eyes glowing bronze behind his visor, “Stay here--safe.  _ Please _ .” 

For a moment, Gavin considers telling Michael his plan. But, Michael’s always been a bleeding romantic, a bloody hero. Pun intended. He would never let Gavin go by himself. The freelancers couldn’t know. They were already risking enough.

“Of course, Michael.” Gavin kissed his visor and sat back in his seat, throwing a weak smile towards the men he loved.

“Stay safe.” It’s an empty platitude, but they all take it seriously just the same. And with that, they’re gone. Off to do what they do best. Fight, like the weapons they were created to be.

Gavin listens for their footsteps to disappear, and when their gunshots fade into dull echoes bouncing off into space, he calls up Alpha. The glowing AI blinks into existence, all set to scold Gavin.

“Bugger off,” Gavin says, cutting him off before he could begin his carefully worded rant about not following the freelancers on their suicide mission.

“I am not about to suit up and join them. I know my strengths and firing giant guns at people is not one of them.”

Alpha, if possible, looked even more skeptical. 

“Then what’s your plan. I can only see so much in this fucked up head of yours.”

Gavin headed towards the left over pile of armor in the back of the ship, rifling through it for one of the extra arm guards. 

“This is still hooked up to the Mother of Invention. Do you think you can get me through there without dying?”

Alpha levelled a withering look at Gavin and disappeared. In Gavin’s hands, the arm guard switched on, its map lighting up and scrolling through dozens of hallways and rooms.

Alpha came back.

“I think I found a route to Gus’s office that’s fairly clear,” Alpha hovered closer to Gavin, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“No. Not really. But, I know it’s what I need to do.”

“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Gavin muttered, “that’s what Dan always used to tell me.”

He donned the arm guard, glancing over the path Alpha lit up on the screen. Grabbing one of the simpler guns that Ray had taught him to shoot, Gavin edged his way out of the ship and into a warzone.

* * *

 

Dead bodies littered the hangar, UNSC and Project Freelancer alike. Death takes no sides, as they used to say. Gavin wasn’t really sure what new idioms they had up here in space, but Death always seemed pretty universal.

Gavin crept past them, gun at the ready, as Ray had demonstrated all those weeks ago. All the dead bodies remained on the ground; nothing jumped out at him from behind any of the wreckage, and Alpha continued to navigate him towards Gus’s office, taking him through side corridors and through long-forgotten rooms.

Once, Gavin stumbled past a room just as a UNSC trooper shot someone through the head, splattering blood out into the hallway. Gavin started to run after that, paying less attention to what was happening around him, more focused than ever on his destination.

He burst into Gus’s office, panting, a terrified screaming in his head. It took him several jarring moments to realize it wasn’t his own.

Alpha shut off.

Gavin was left alone with his thoughts for the first time in what felt like a millenia.

Everything hurt. His world began to spin. Piercing blue eyes tracked his as he fell down into inky darkness. Finally, his world was silent.

 

Thick leather straps bound him to the cool metal table under the blinding white lights. Stars bounced in his eyes, a mechanical hum filled his ears, but his mind was still silent.

“Good morning,” The voice dripped from somewhere beyond the blinding light: warm, welcoming.

“You have been through a lot since your cryostasis was interrupted, allow me to extend my utmost apologies for that mishap.”

“Mishap?” Gavin croaked out, “ _ Mishap?  _ Some bloody fucking mishap that was! Ruined my whole shitstain of a life, it did.”

The man floated into view, eyes penetrating past Gavin’s feeble exterior.

“Alpha?”

The man chuckled. 

“Your AI and I do bear a striking resemblance, don’t we?”

It was true. Alpha, though Gavin had only ever seen him a few inches tall and glowing blue, shared the same crinkling smile and scrub of hair as the man standing above him.

“I suppose it’s because AI-134 was based on me. First AI that didn’t fry its host's brain. I’m a little proud.” The man (Alpha’s father?) winked down at Gavin.

“I must also apologize for the state in which you have woken up, and I suppose for the reason you passed out in the first place. You see, we deemed it necessary to emit an EMP pulse to neutralize any further fighting. This is not what I wanted. Ever. My men can get a little carried away sometimes.”

Not-Alpha shrugged.

“It neutralized Alpha as well, and I imagine caused you quite a bit of pain. The restraints are for your own safety. Our files say that you have a habit of violent awakenings.”

“Something like that,” Gavin muttered.

Not-Alpha picked up a tablet and pressed a few keys. The straps released, retracting back into the table. Rubbing at his arms, Gavin sat up slowly, still wary of the man.

“The name’s Burnie, by the way. Suppose you should know something about me, since I know so much about you, Patient 00. Now, I think it’s time you and I had a little chat.”

* * *

 

Michael would dream about blood, if he ever made his way back to a bed after all of this. So much goddamn blood. None of it was even his--that was the worst part.

He had lost track of Jack and Ray at some point, but Ryan remained at his back, the two of them fighting in tired tandem. Geoff wasn’t too far off, battling hand to hand with three UNSC soldiers.

Watching Geoff, Michael didn’t notice his own opponents retreating until Ryan appeared in front of him, voice crackling confused over the comm. 

“Where’d everybody go?”  
Geoff’s opponents retreated as well, leaving the freelancers alone in the destroyed remains of the cafeteria. 

Ever cautious, the three of them checked the halls: no one in sight. The sudden calm was far more worrying than the constant fighting had been.

“Keep your eyes open,” Geoff warned, heading towards a cracked wall panel, attempting to contact anyone outside of the isolated ship.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway Michael was watching. Raising his gun, he warily waited for whoever was coming for them. 

Jack and Ray rounded the corner, Ray limping slightly, and Jack carrying a body awash in crimson. Red hair hung dirty and matted from the nearly unrecognizable head, and Michael’s whole world ground to a halt.

“No,” he whispered, “God,  _ fucking NO.”  _

He was in front of Jack in an instant, gently taking Lindsay’s body from him. Jack’s helmet had cracked, and his eyes shone wet and empty, a man used to losing loved ones.

Ray leaned against the wall, exhausted, watching as Ryan and Geoff approached as well. 

“They fought until the end,” he told them, “Lindsay and Gus--she was the only body we could recover,” he broke off, unable to relive the massacre he and Jack were too late to prevent.

Michael had collapsed to the ground at some point; he wasn’t really sure when. Hunching over Lindsay’s body he fruitlessly attempted to clean the blood from her face. Her jaw had been broken, bone splintering through skin.

She wasn’t supposed to look like this. There should be a smirk playing at the edges of her mouth; she should be quipping at Michael, telling him to get off his ass and go help the others. She should be--be alive. Vibrant. Here.

Not empty. Not  _ dead _ .

She was dead. So was Gus.

“Michael.”

Everyone was dead.

“ _ Michael.” _

They were the only thing left of Project Freelancer. A bunch of useless mercenaries in half-baked armor.

“ _ MICHAEL!” _

She had been his sister. His best friend. Hell, he had loved her, at one point, before everything had gotten too complicated and she had said  _ enough. _

“We have company,” Geoff was kneeling next to him, hand resting heavy on Michael’s shoulder. 

Michael lifted his gaze from Lindsay’s broken face, UNSC soldiers were pouring in from every direction, too many to count.

Gently, reverently, he laid down Lindsay’s body, standing protectively over it. The freelancers circled around it, lifting up guns, dropping low into fighting stances. They had known from the beginning that this was a suicide mission. Michael just hopped Alpha could help Gavin get far away from all of this.

“Wait!” The yell was frantic, British lilt ringing through, “Stop! Don’t shoot!”

Gavin burst through the UNSC soldiers, skidding to a stop in front the freelancers.

“Gavin,” Geoff’s voice cracked, “What’re you doing here? You should be long fucking gone.”

A man stepped up behind Gavin, the soldiers around them stepping back respectfully. His blue eyes glinted behind black-rimmed glasses.

“Gavin’s here to save you all, to prevent any more senseless killing.”

“Senseless killing?” Michael roared, levelling his gun at the man’s head, “The only people doing the senseless killing here are your men.”

“Causalities, necessary ones, have happened, but only because Gus didn’t heed my warnings.”

Burnie stepped towards the freelancers.

“Now, I advise that all of you lay down your weapons and go with my men, if you don’t want any more casualties to occur.”

“Gavin?” Michael looked towards the man. Usually so small and anxious, Gavin stood tall next to Burnie, eyes not meeting any of the freelancers searching gazes.

“Very well,” Geoff said and dropped his weapon.

“Geoff,” Ray took a halting step forward, “No! We can still fight! We can still--”

“Ray,” Geoff’s voice brokered no arguments, “Drop your gun.”

And, the freelancer did.

Standing over Lindsay’s dead body, Michael realized, for the first time in their long careers as freelancers, they had lost.

Gavin still would not look him in the eyes.

* * *

 

This is not the first time the freelancers have found themselves behind bars. This is the first time though that Gus or Lindsay haven’t been able to sweet-talk them out of a sticky situation. Also, Ray wouldn’t exactly characterize this as a sticky situation, more of “the whole world as you knew it has imploded” kind of situation, which is infinitely worse, all things considered.

Michael was still in shock--he had not stopped screaming at anything that moved since the UNSC soldiers had locked them up in the Mother of Inventions holding cells. 

Geoff just seemed resigned, sitting slumped against the far wall, eyes closed. Jack sat next to him, eyes trained on Michael warily.

Ray and Ryan did what they always did when shit went sideways: they stayed close, alert, and waited. They were always the two freelancers picked for stake-outs, not necessarily because they were the most patient, but because they always knew when the moment was just right to go in for the kill.

Ray refused to think about Gavin. To think about the betrayal. Ray was almost glad Gus had passed before seeing his one hope fall into Burnie’s hands.

His eyes track Michael as the man marches up to glowing bars for the hundredth time.

“Come fucking fight me you pieces of shit. All of you! I’ll fucking fight all of you!” He kicks a bar, and it shocks his foot, sending him flying to his ass.

He flops backwards, staring up at the cell’s ceiling, tears squeezing out the sides of his eyes. Ryan crouches down next to him

“You got it all out, buddy?”

Michael grunts.

“Good. I need your pants.”

“Ryan,” Jack warns, “I am not sure if now is really the best time--”

Ryan waves his hand absentmindedly at Jack, “I don’t want to get in them. I  _ need  _ them.”

They’re stuck in jail, Michael’s all yelled out, and Ray’s pretty sure Geoff’s broken, so no one else argues with Ryan. Shimmying out of the pants, Michael hands them off to Ryan, who huddles in the corner with them and tells Ray to keep watch.

Thirty minutes later a pair of UNSC soldiers march by to check on them. Their faces are impassive as they check that none of the freelancers are attempting to escape. Ryan sits on the pants in the corner, his face blank. Michael’s curled up next to Geoff, half-asleep against his shoulder, and the soldiers don’t question why he isn’t wearing pants. They eye Ray, who remains standing near the bars, humming to himself.

“Pathetic,” one of the soldiers mutters. The other one laughs, and they walk on.

Ray watches as they walk down the rest of the cells and disappear through a far door. Nodding at Ryan, he swivels his head back to where the soldiers came from, watching for more. Ryan goes back to tinkering with the pants.

Another patrol comes by thirty minutes later, and they repeat the process. Two more patrols pass before Ryan lets out a tired “a-ha” and a blue glow lights up his corner of the cell.

Ray doesn’t dare leave his post, but Jack and Michael crowd closer, blocking the light from view. Even Geoff shows an interest.

“Fucking finally!” The voice is unmistakably Alpha’s and Ray has the sudden urge to punch something. Or cry. Maybe both.

It’s Alpha’s crude voice that finally snaps Geoff out of his haze. He’s on his feet in seconds, staring down at the AI. Anger, betrayal, and infinite exhaustion flood his eyes. 

“Before any of you go batshit on me, just hear me out. I have been just as trapped as the rest of you.”

Geoff nods for Alpha to go on.

“Gavin, because he’s a goddamn bleeding heart and can’t let people get hurt, did not listen to a single thing any of you said.”

Michael snorts, “Big surprise.”

Alpha continues: “He went cavorting across the ship, ran straight into the Director, and got me EMP-ed right out of his goddamn head.”

“Can you turn EMP into a verb?” Ray questions. Geoff shoots him a look, and he returns to watching the hallway.

“While I was out, they manipulated my code in his head, and basically imprisoned both of us in Gavin’s big ol’ head. That Gavin you saw in the hallway? The quiet, submissive one? That’s not our Gavin. He’s trapped inside of himself, along with every dirty UNSC secret since before its official conception.”

“That’s why they want him so badly,” Jack says, “Why Gus wanted to protect him.”

“I was able to download a few lesser encrypted files,” Alpha tells them, pulling them up in front of him.

There’s a picture of Gavin, eyes unfocused standing in a blurry room surrounded by scientists. Script below it dates the the picture as 2100. A report pops up in front of the picture, and Alpha reads aloud: “Patient 00 resisted returning to cryo-sleep. I hypothesize that AI-13 is beginning to reach Crit levels. Perhaps it time to remove the implant.”

Another picture pops up of Gavin on an operating table, this one dated 2184 with an official UNSC stamp in the corner. Alpha reads: “AI-23 implantation. Patient 00 reacts well.”

“Enough.” Geoff’s voice is firm. 

Ray feels like he’s going to throw up. Michael actually does, Jack patting his back comfortingly as Michael retches onto the floor.

“Alpha,” Geoff says, “You need to get us out of here. Now.”

“I can try, but I am a lot more limited than usual.”

“Just tell us what to do,” Ryan says.

And just like that, the freelancers are a team again. Geoff back in charge, the shadows of regret gone from his face. Michael finishes emptying his stomach and puts his pants back on, ready to rip through the wall if he has to. 

Ray continues to keep watch.

* * *

 

They have left a mildly conspicuous trail of dead UNSC soldiers behind them, but at this point all of the freelancers are seeing red, and they don’t really have the wherewithal to clean up after themselves. Besides, Ryan liked leaving calling cards. He was creepy like that.

They had a plan. Or rather, they had the bare bones of a plan, and they were just going to wing the rest, which was what they always did anyway. It involved dehijacking Gavin’s head, a ship that may or may not be destroyed, and a shitton of explosives. The only certain thing in the plan was the shitton of explosives. Jack was surprisingly good at blowing things up.

They split up: Ray went after the ship, Jack and Ryan went to go rig the Mother of Invention with explosives, and Michael and Geoff went after Gavin.

Alpha guided them through the ship towards Gus’s office, where Burnie had taken up residence. 

Their comms were broken; they had only their blind faith in each other to trust that each would uphold their part of the plan.

Michael kicked down Gus’s door, the reinforced glass shattering under his enhanced armor, and Geoff pushed past him, gun held ready, Michael covering his back. Gavin sat alone in front of Gus’s desk, staring into nothingness.

“Gav--Oh God Gavin, please look at me,” Michael collapsed in front him, cradling the gaunt, scruffy face in his hands.

“He doesn’t know who you are anymore,” a voice said from the shadows behind the desk, “You are  _ insignificant. _ ” 

Michael shot around, gun up, but Geoff was already in front of Burnie, blaster inches from those twinkling eyes. 

“Oh, go ahead. Kill me. Doesn’t really matter anymore. The Gavin you knew is gone. My mission’s done. The UNSC’s secrets are safe. And most importantly, Project Freelancer is over.”

“As long as I am still alive, Project Freelancer will never die.” Geoff replied, voice low, dangerous. He fired, splattering Burnie’s brains against the wall, vermillion coating the shadows. 

Crumpled on the ground, Burnie’s body was soft, unintimidating, but his blue eyes, still twinkling, remained cold and calculating, even in death. 

Geoff kicked his head.

“I don’t know what to do,” Michael yelled, his voice shrill, “He won’t respond to anything.”

Michael shook Gavin’s shoulders slightly, but Gavin’s head merely wobbled back and forth, his eyes remaining unfocused.

Geoff summoned Alpha through his armor, feeling the half-developed metal heat up around him from the strain. 

“We don’t have long,” the AI warned, floating towards the unresponsive Gavin. He shooed Michael to the side and hovered near Gavin’s implant at the nape of his neck. 

Alpha disappeared, Geoff’s armor whirring and sparking alarmingly, but Gavin’s eyes began to blink rapidly, flitting across the room, as if searching for something to settle on. His body jerked, almost throwing himself out of the chair, but Michael caught him, holding him steady through the seizure. He jerked and twitched for a solid minute, his mouth gaping in a silent scream before he fell limp against Michael.

Alpha reappeared, dimmer than before: “That...that should do it.” 

The AI looked over at Burnie’s bloody, collapsed body, a foreign emotion brimming behind his holographic eyes, “I can’t believe I was modelled after that guy. Well, what’s an AI to do?” He shrugged and pointed towards the tablet on Gus’s desk, “I uploaded everything onto that. Use it. Take the UNSC down. Don’t let them ever create something like me again.”

Behind Alpha, Gavin began to stir.

“Goodbye, Geoff.”

“Goodbye, Alpha.”

* * *

 

**Prologue**

“In the wake of the anonymous leak of UNSC classified information, our galaxy has undergone a massive turnover in governmental power. A force that once stood for intergalactic cooperation and peace has been exposed of centuries of corruption, leaving most of us wondering, what exactly is the truth? Who will we look to as our leaders now?” The lady on TV aimed her rhetorical questions at a panel of planetary representatives, all looking haried from non-stop press conferences and galactic meetings. 

Ray changed the channel and buried himself further against Jack’s chest on the couch. Barbara had the only chair to herself, healing body carefully propped up against pillows. 

In the med bay, Ryan sat next to Gavin’s bed, where the man lay fitfully asleep, his mind his own. Ryan tinkered absentmindedly with some spare armor as Butler fixed Gavin’s blankets. 

Michael---Michael was probably still digging. He hadn’t stopped since Ray had piloted them back to the remote safe house. Empty graves. They had recovered few bodies, but too many names. And all Michael could do was dig. For Lindsay. For Gus. For everyone who had died because the Freelancers hadn’t made it back in time. 

The Mother of Invention had blown up beautifully, a space Viking grave for all those they couldn’t save. Ray had cruised in on a stolen ship and flew them off to the one place they could be safe. 

And Geoff, well Geoff was honoring his old friend’s dying wishes. 

Ray changed the channel again, and Geoff’s face, weary and haunted, filled the screen, discussing ardently with other galactic leaders the future of their now broken world. 

Michael continued to dig, Ray changed the channel, and Gavin woke up in his own head, alone. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are absolutely lovely and keep me writing! Any and all feedback is appreciated :)


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